


Adrenaline to Rewire My Mind

by Amberly



Series: Just Like Heaven [17]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Anxiety, Background Heero/Trowa, M/M, Obsession, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27980577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberly/pseuds/Amberly
Summary: Trowa has him by the shoulders. Shoves him against the wall and gets in his face the way only Trowa can do, all teeth and snarls, green eyes flashing with the same fierce survival that lives in Duo, an animal clawing beneath the skin. He bares his teeth. Tenses himself to fight and Trowa shifts his grip. Puts his arm over Duo’s neck and presses, gaze flat.
Relationships: Chang Wufei/Duo Maxwell
Series: Just Like Heaven [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/405643
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Adrenaline to Rewire My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys still like me after this. 
> 
> Please know I really appreciate everyone who reads and comments <3 y’all make my day.

“Ah.”    
  
“Ah?”    
  
“That is what I said.”    
  
“I know that,” Duo huffs. Rolls his eyes. “Why did you--” It cuts off. There’s a screech. A shudder through the metal walkway they’re on, because Trowa had insisted they go up. Take the warren of catwalks so they could have full coverage and Duo’s eyes narrow. He glares, clutching the rails as the entire structure wobbles and there are a few moments of complete terror as he realizes their section has come free from the ceiling--is stopped from crashing to the floor only because it is attached to others, and Duo hates Trowa with a dark, seething heat he’s previously reserved for Oz and Zechs. 

“Duo.” His name, sharp and quiet. His gaze snaps to Trowa’s. “It is time to be running.”    
  
That’s all it takes. Trowa is deadly calm, the ice to the heat of anxiety that sweeps through him. Duo’s trembles as he runs. Feels like a foal, feels drunk, flinging himself more than he runs. There’s no way to mask the sound. Not his running, not the grating metal on metal of the catwalk tearing away from the ceiling and he is concerned. Wufei is smart, is capable, made of flesh that breaks and burns and Duo is all ricochet. Bounces between the rails and finally flings himself over them. Trowa is shouting, noise over noise as he lands on a stack of crates and wobbles.   
  
For one giddy moment, Duo is 15 again. Engineered for adrenaline and violence, all of it sweeping through him as he races along the crates.It’s a warehouse--seems like it’s always a warehouse. Like Duo has spent his whole life sneaking into warehouses, or out of them, and he wishes just once it were something more interesting. But that would mean casualties and God, he is so tired of blood on his hands. He hits the floor and there are--hands.    
  
Trowa. Grabbing him from behind and yanking, clapping a hand over his mouth and snarling in rough, furious Russian against his ear. Duo hears. Doesn’t hear. He fights the hold with the fury of six years old and standing in the wreckage. Fights with the fury of bodies burning, plague ravaging the streets. There is metal falling around them. Chunks of walkways, heavy grates. Trowa has him pinned up against a wall. Wraps his body like a shield and Duo notices. Rejects it and pushes as hard as he can. Somewhere in the chaos are black eyes. Somewhere in the chaos is skin he’s only just started to map. Hands that know the weight of his heart.    
  
“Duo!” Trowa has him by the shoulders. Shoves him against the wall and gets in his face the way only Trowa can do, all teeth and snarls, green eyes flashing with the same fierce survival that lives in Duo, an animal clawing beneath the skin. He bares his teeth. Tenses himself to fight and Trowa shifts his grip. Puts his arm over Duo’s neck and presses, gaze flat. “Heero has him. They are safe.” 

“You can’t know that,” Duo squeezes out, clawing at his arm. Trowa doesn’t respond. Arches an eyebrow at him. Closing his eyes, Duo redirects. Fights his own panic, the rising tide of nausea and bile. He swallows hard and nods, slowly. The warehouse is growing quiet around them. Sounds like settling metal and falling debris. He wets his lips. “Do we need to worry about the roof?”    
  
“Nyet.” Trowa pulls off him, voice low. “I am thinking that was deliberate sabotage.”    
  
The world goes flat. Static and white and Duo watches Trowa from colonies away. Whole universes away, dead-eyed as he looks at him. He takes a deep breath. Lets it out slowly. Duo can take inventory without moving. Knows exactly how many knives are against his skin at any given moment, and he moves jerkily through the warehouse. Picks his way over the debris littering the floor like a puppet cut from its strings. Trowa is behind him. Trowa curses under his breath and holds his gun low, eyes a steady sweep through the room as they make their way through it.   
  
In the aftermath of the collapse there are no lights. It’s dark, almost pitch black. Duo is used to the dark. Duo is a force and unleashed he is impossible to stop. Doesn’t know how to stop. He seeks the stairway to the upper level and makes no attempt to be stealthy. No attempt to be subtle, narrowed violet eyes dark with purpose. His heart is a frantic bass line and written by terror and fury. Trowa keeps pace at his side and they make it to the door without tripping. Without falling down or catching on any of the sharp edges between them. Open the door without speaking and--   
  
Duo feels every tightly wound nerve snap loose. Is hit with a relief so sharp he’s sure he’ll bleed out in Wufei’s arms, caught up in arms and warmth and the scent of tea and incense that clings to his lover as tightly as Duo wants to. Dimly, he knows that Heero and Trowa are having their own reunion. Are doing their own scans, checking each other over with eyes and careful hands the way he and Wufei are. Letting out a heavy breath, he leans his head back against the wall of the stairwell. Keeps his hand firmly in Wufei’s and squeezes tightly. Duo shuts his eyes and feels the subtle crush of those around him. The way they all step in, shoulder to shoulder to shoulder as they take stock. They are alive, again.    
  
It’s a minute and an hour when Heero finally steps away. Gestures silently toward the stairs and begins to climb. Wufei gives a sharp nod and follows, Duo right behind him. Trowa waits until they hit the landing and follows. They’re too close, too big of a target. They know this, and Duo is grateful that they pretend they don’t. The stairs end at another door--the second floor. A smaller warehouse than they would’ve expected, considering, but then Duo knows size isn’t everything. Snickers to himself and claps a hand over his mouth at the sideways glare from Heero. 

He tries to swallow back the riot of manic laughter as Heero eases the door open, tipping his head back. Watches Wufei slip through the door next from under his lashes and takes a deep breath. Trowa hits the landing. Nods, and Duo is going through the door as well. Goes rigid as he takes in the scene. They thought it was an office. They expected an office. A base of operations with incriminating documents, charts and photos and string, like a child playing detective. Zechs himself, maybe, hunched over as he makes another call. That’s not what they get.    
  
What they get is a tomb. What they get is a bed with heavy damask curtains and rose patterned bedding. Dozens of bouquets in different states of decay set on every available surface, the scent cloying and thick in the sudden heat coming through the windows. There are pictures--a dead general memorialized in every frame. There’s a uniform and a wig stand and a desk that is piled with papers and journals and a phone and Duo shudders as he takes it in. Covers his mouth and reaches instinctively for Wufei. Their hands catch. Hold. Lock together as the four of them stare. 

“What is this?” Heero breathes out, taking a step into the room. He turns slowly. Takes it in. Duo shakes his head. Won’t voice it the same way Wufei won’t voice it. Doesn’t want to talk about this strange shrine to a dead man in the middle of slums. Zechs comes here. Zechs calls from here. Zechs prays at the altar of a man long dead, a man who can’t love him anymore, who maybe never did and Duo feels his stomach heave as Trowa shuts the door. Traps them in the smell of roses and rot, Heero making his way to the desk.    
  
“He’s obsessed,” Wufei whispers, horrified. Looses Duo’s hand to explore and Duo can’t speak up. Can’t tell Wufei how much he needs him to do the exact opposite of what he just did. How much he needs Wufei to be attached to him forever, after everything. The explosions and the catwalk and the brush after brush after brush. This looks how he feels, he thinks. This room looks how he feels and the overpowering certainty of it makes his knees tremble. He grabs the bedpost. Swallows a lungful of floral air and thinks of the story Heero likes to tell--the one about the man who coughed up petals and died when the flowers planted by unrequited love finally bloomed. Sees himself in every single detail and hates himself and Zechs in the same breath.    
  
“Treize is dead.” Trowa says it bluntly. No dressing up. “He has been dead for many years. This is beyond obsession. This is a sickness.” There’s a murmur of agreement Duo hears distantly. He’s watching the screens next to the door with unfocused eyes. There are two. One is this room--shows the four of them, their intrusion into a madness Duo is afraid he almost understands. The second flicks through rooms in what seems to be an empty penthouse, each scene up for barely half a minute. Duo wets his lips. Comes back to himself as he sees a familiar figure sitting on a couch in one flick.    
  
“Guys--” It’s croaked. Rasped, his grip white-knuckled on the bed. They turn to him. Follow his gaze. Stare wide eyed as the screen flicks through it’s rotation again: kitchen. dining room. study. bedroom. living room. He’s there again--blond and smiling. 

“Shit--Heero!” Trowa barks, yanking out own phone. Heero is already moving. Shoving papers and journals into his bag. Wufei joins him, the two of them working in tandem. Through the flicker he makes his way toward the camera. Grins wider, triumphant. Zechs pulls out a cellphone. It takes five minutes for them to see it. For them to watch as he says something, Trowa trying to capture every word. Zechs waves and presses a button. Sets his phone in front of the camera. It’s a timer. It’s set for one hundred seconds, and now the second screen is a timer too. Is set to match, and Duo feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. He moves without thought--grabs a vase and throws it through a window. Uses his own empty backpack to clear it out, takes up precious seconds and then he is through. He is followed, brain counting down as the others follow him. As Heero shoves him toward the edge of the roof. Duo counts out loud as he runs. Marks each second with fear and horror and the wild thrill of a madness he’s never learned to set down boiling through him.    
  
He hits the pavement and rolls. Sees the others next to him, running in the same direction. Four of them, seeking cover like rats in a maze. He remembers the smell of gasoline, the way it mixed with the scent of roses in a perfume he’ll never forget, no matter how many years pass. Duo remembers the careful, quiet feeling of Wufei’s hand sliding into his as they sprawl panting behind a dumpster. They made it at least one warehouse over and Duo, for the moment is elated.Knows only that they have their evidence, that they have made it out alive, and can call Une, now. Get arrest warrants and lay out the case before her.    
  
It will be half an hour before any of them find out that Zechs blew his penthouse out of its building and took himself with it. 


End file.
